Domestic Shadows
by Ms Q
Summary: Spike rescues an extraordinary little girl one night. Will she bring he and Buffy closer together or drive them apart? AU from the last bit of "Chosen". Just forget that Spike ever died or ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel.
1. Chapter 1

Domestic Shadows

By SinisterChic & MsQuey

_A/N:_ This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

_Disclaimer:_ Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

Chapter 1

It was the most unnatural, unearthly feeling in the world. Not since Heaven had she felt like this. She thought she never _could_ feel this way again until she was allowed to return there once more. Buffy Summers sat on the back porch of her new home, watching the sun set, and felt . . . done.

There were hundreds of slayers in the world now; Giles thought maybe even close to a thousand. On the day they realized just how many there were he had turned to her and said, "Your work is finished Buffy." The sound was liberating to her ears and he said it with the smile of an affectionate father. "You can be a normal woman now."

And she _was_ a normal woman at last. Except for a few things. Giles had bought her and Dawn a small house near the coast of Maine. His eyebrows had drawn together when she said she wanted to move to the other side of the country but he didn't comment. Her reasoning was simple enough, though. She wanted as little reminder of Sunnydale as possible and where better for that than to live in a quiet, oceanfront New England town?

Dawn re-enrolled into high school, her senior year rapidly approaching. And Buffy found a new counseling job in _another_ school. ("You cannot work at my school, Buffy! What if you mistake a normal bully for a demon and beat the crap out of him? I'd die of embarrassment!") It was really the only job she had any experience for, though Dawn pointed out that there _was_ a Doublemeat Palace in town.

The remaining Scoobies and the Potentials (now fully fledged slayers) left with Giles for England, intending to reform the Watcher's Council and begin gathering the new slayers into a training school. Faith and Robin, not wishing to leave the States or retire, moved to Cleveland to keep an eye on the only other Hellmouth. Buffy missed them all but knew this was for the best.

And it wasn't like they couldn't stay in touch. Before they left, Willow taught Buffy the basics of computer skills and how to use those funny things called email and instant messenger. Buffy found, now that she actually had the time, that computers and the internet were actually quite addictive and more than once Dawn had to hide the laptop in order to keep her from staying up all night.

So yes, Buffy was now leading a relatively normal life. Emphasis on "relatively".

There was still a vampire living in the basement.

It had been six months since the battle and Spike's burns were nearly healed. He'd spent two of those months completely laid up and helpless. It was Buffy who nursed him back to health. She changed his bandages, fed him, and bathed him. It was hard for Spike to take but it wasn't like he had any choice.

One might think that their close proximity to one another might foster a growing intimacy as had begun before. This was not the case. Buffy had said that she loved him, but he knew it was only because she had thought that he was about to die. He could feel uncomfortable tension radiating from her each time she came down the stairs into his basement to tend him. She always put on a brave face and smiled but he knew better.

She wished that he hadn't made it.

That's not something a man or vampire can live underneath of for very long.

Spike stretched as he woke with the sun's setting. Buffy had left a mug of pig's blood on the stool beside his bed. He looked at it bitterly but then drank. He would need his strength because in one week he was leaving. Buffy didn't know it because he had just decided the night before. He would tell her tonight.

A little while later he stepped out on to the back porch to light a cigarette. Buffy was there, drinking a cup of tea, watching the last rays of the sun disappear behind the trees. She looked so peaceful and beautiful in that moment that he almost rethought his decision, but when she turned, sensing him there, he knew that he had to leave. Her smile changed subtly and she shifted in her seat.

"Hi, Spike," she said.

"Hey, Buffy," he returned, taking a puff. "Where's the Nibblet?"

"You know, you really should stop calling her that," she said laughing slightly. "Yesterday she told me that if you called her that one more time she was going to stake you in your sleep." He smiled despite himself. He'd miss the Bit's fire and spunk. "She's out on a date."

"A what?" The cig nearly fell out of his mouth.

"Don't look so shocked. She's seventeen years old."

Spike started pacing back and forth, forgetting about the little speech he had prepared. "Do you even know this bloke?—If he so much as lays a hand on her I'll kill him!"

Buffy was full on laughing at him now. "God, Spike! Overreact much? If she can kill demons then I'm pretty sure she can handle anything a teenage boy can throw her way."

"I'm not worried about that. Sure, Dawn can knock the block off any bloke that tries to hurt her physically." He sat down hard in the chair next to her. "No contest. But he could . . . you know." She looked at him, nonplussed. "Oh, bullocks! You know what I'm talking about."

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Fine, keep your head in the bloody sand. Just don't come cryin' to me when she ends up with a bun in the oven."

"_A__bun in the oven_?"

"Pregnant! Sod it. Do I need to spell it out for you?" She put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing but quickly recovered this time around.

"Spike, you don't need to worry about Dawn. She's not going to get pregnant. I trust her. And you should too." She sat forward in the chair and gave him the once over. "You look like you're feeling much better today," she said, thusly changing the subject.

He took another drag from his cigarette, "Yeah. So it would seem."

"Good enough to go out and buy your own blood now?" she asked in jest, not knowing the tender spot she was hitting. "This isn't Sunnydale, you know. People don't just _buy blood_ on a regular basis around here. The butcher is starting to give me a look."

Spike crushed his spent cig under-boot and immediately lit up another. Buffy waved a hand in front of her face. "Spike, you're rapidly becoming a smoke stack." She coughed. "And FYI, I'm not buying you anymore cigarettes either."

"Buffy, we need to talk." The words fell like lead. Spike swallowed hard, forcing all his heart's protests down and out of the way. Buffy didn't say anything, just waited, sensing his uneasiness at last. "Like you said, I'm almost runnin' at full speed again. And I'm grateful for everything you've done for me," he glanced at her for half a second but then looked back down at the wooden porch planks, "but I think it's time I move on."

"Why?" she asked in a strained voice, sinking into her deck chair. If it were possible Buffy looked even smaller than usual.

"For your own—"

Buffy cut him off by suddenly getting up from her chair to turn her back on him. "If you're about to say this is for my own good, you can just save it," she said angrily. "I've heard that speech enough for one life time."

"Buffy, I—"

"No! Shut up, I mean it."

Now Spike was getting angry himself. He stood up and grabbed Buffy by the shoulder, spinning her back around to face him. "It's not just for _your_ own good. It's for mine too!"

She shook him off. "What is that supposed to mean? Am I that toxic?"

"You bloody well are! I can't stand seein' you _everyday_—day in and day out—knowin' how you feel about me."

"And how do I feel about you, Spike?" With every word her voice intensified until she was nearly growling at the end. "No, tell me. I'd _really_ like to know."

"_You wish I were dead!"_

Everything came to a full stop. Spike couldn't believe he'd just said that. He hadn't meant to be this harsh with her. Buffy couldn't believe she'd heard it and her eyes started to well up with tears.

The next words that came were Buffy's and they came slowly and measured. "If that's how you think I feel—maybe it _would_ be better if you left."

Spike leaned forward until his face was mere inches from hers. "Fine."

He had intended it to be a snide remark. A proper note on which to leave. But she was so close, her eyes so bright. The next instant after he'd spoken he found himself kissing her and she was pawing for purchase against his back, trying to pull him closer. As they went on kissing hungrily, he ran his fingers through her silky hair and she tried very hard to separate him from his coat. Each action was frantic, needy even. It had been almost two years since they'd been here together, after all.

For a full minute they lost themselves in each other until, shaking, Spike broke away.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, panting, pulling him down to rest his forehead against hers. She ran her fingertips along his cheek bone and down to his lips. Spike closed his eyes and leaned in for a moment, but then seemed to snap out of it.

He pushed her hands down, "Buffy," but couldn't yet force himself to push her away entirely. "I can't do this."

Her eyes sparkled. "Spike, I—"

"No." He stopped her with his hand against her mouth. "Don't say it. If you say it again, you'll regret it. Someday, down the road." She made a noise of protest, but he barreled on. "I know you feel something for me, Buffy. God, I wish with my soul that it was love, but we both know its not." He laughed mirthlessly. "'Til the day we die we'll be turnin' each other on 'til we can barely stand it—but that's not enough for me anymore."

And with that he turned away and began to walk off out the back way, through the garden gate.

"Spike," Buffy called out, her voice panicked. He turned back to look at her. "You aren't leaving for good, are you?"

He shook his head. "No. Gonna go cool off and then I'll be back—," Buffy let out a breath of relief only to suck it back in again when he finished his sentence, "to pick up my stuff."

When Dawn came home later that evening she heard Buffy sobbing from somewhere in the house. She followed the sound until it led her out to the back porch. There she found her sister sitting against the banister, her knees drawn up to her chest, just shaking with tears. Dawn approached tentatively, and sank down beside her. Buffy didn't acknowledge her at first but then, after a particularly large sob wracked her body she cried out, "He's going to leave me." And then Dawn understood: _Spike is leaving._ All words of comfort escaped her, so she simply put her arm around Buffy and let her cry on her shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Domestic Shadows

By SinisterChic & MsQuey

A/N: This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

Disclaimer: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

(_This chapter written by SinisterChic)_

Chapter 2

Buffy lay awake and listened to the quiet of the house. She was afraid to go to sleep because she didn't want to wake up and discover 'he' had gone for good. She both longed and dreaded for the sound of his return home. Home? No. Home was a place someone belonged. And he would, if only he'd let himself. But ever since the battle with The First, Spike had become distantly aloof. He avoided Dawn almost altogether, and herself . . . The sweet smiles that passed before them those last few months in Sunnydale were gone. He never even looked at her anymore. It was as if he had shut down. As if he really hadn't made it out of the hellmouth. Not all of him, anyway. She wondered if that was how she had been after crawling out of her grave: a walking zombie. Okay, maybe that was exaggerating a bit. Spike wasn't a zombie, he was just so . . . not Spike. It wasn't until their spat that night that the big bad persona had finally come back out to play.

'_You wish I were dead!'_

She shut her eyes. Oh, how he was wrong about that. Ever since arriving in Maine nightmares had plagued her slumber. They transported her back to the school. She saw the light stream out of Spike, but instead of throwing off the necklace in the nick of time he was set on staying to the bitter end. She protested, begging him to come with her. He told her no, that he needed to do the clean up. She refused to go without him. Then before her eyes, he began to disintegrate into blackened ash. She reached out, as if she could somehow hold him together, but it was in vain. The dream always caused her to wake up screaming. She'd have to get out of bed and make her way down to the basement door. She'd reach out and press her palm above the knob. Her slayer senses could always feel him, and it soothed her fears. Soon she wouldn't be able to do that. She'd have no way to distinguish dream from reality. No proof that he was all right.

There had to be a way to persuade him to stay. She knew one guaranteed way but she knew she wasn't ready for that. Would she ever be ready for that?

The good thing about fighting demons was that there was no tomorrow. She only had to worry about the present because the future might not even come. Now she had to face it. People expected her to know what she wanted. Are you going back to college? Do you really want to make being a councilor your career? You can get married and have kids now, Buffy. She had strived for years for this. To have choices. But actually being given freedom, she didn't know what to do with it.

One thing was certain, however. Buffy wasn't ready for Spike not to be there. She felt whole around him- even with his moodiness as of late. He was part of her home, her family, him and Dawn. Xander, Willow, and Giles were part of her family as well, but they seemed light-years away. They called and talked, but their bond-ness had vanished. When something happened in her life, to tell them was an afterthought. Her first inclination is to confide in Spike. No matter which road she chose she knew that she desired him to walk down it with her. He supported her and gave her strength like no other. He was such a huge chunk of her life. If he left sure she'd manage. She had learned to be strong from her slayer duties. But . . . it would be hard.

She needed Spike. But it wasn't just him bundled in a package, other things accompanied him. He fit in with the night. He had to have his rough and tumble before bedtime. Wherever he lived there would be bags of pigs blood in the fridge. He'd leave dirty, red stained mugs in the sink. He'd sneak cigarettes out on the porch, and the smoky scent would linger on the leather duster that seemed glued to his form. She needed Spike, but she also needed normal. Those two were unmixy things.

Sure there was a way to make him stay for good. . . But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. To say it.

Buffy rolled over and brought the comforter closer to her chin. She felt cold. She wished Spike was there to hold her. She missed that. He might be a vampire, without any temperature, but he somehow had always filled her with warmth.

The girl was having trouble keeping up with the brisk pace, because of her short legs. She had to keep up. If she didn't . . . She clung to her mother's hand tighter.

"Mommy, where are we going?" the little girl asked.

The woman slowed down slightly. She turned toward her daughter. Her breathing came rapidly. "Rebecca, I'm not sure." Her soft brown eyes became wet.

Rebecca reached upward. The woman knelt down, wrapping her arms around the five-year-old. She held the girl tightly, the act reciprocated.

"I'm so scared, Mommy," Rebecca cried. She buried her head in her mother's chest.

The woman stroked Rebecca's brown hair. "Me too, baby. Me too."

"Will. . . Will they get us, like they got Daddy?" the child questioned.

Sobbing took over the woman's body. She trembled at the fresh memory of her husband's death.

"Don't cry." Rebecca whispered. She hated to see her mommy sad.

The woman shook her head. She dried her eyes. "Not your fault, Becca. And no, the mean men won't get us."

Rebecca kept quiet. She knew her mother was lying. They weren't men at all, they were monsters. They wanted to kill them, and they were close. She could feel them.

Ever since Rebecca could remember she had seen monsters. Many young children claimed that goblins lived under their bed or hid in the closet. This was different. Rebecca saw things no child should have to witness. She saw teeth and claws rip people apart. Her parents and the child psychiatrist told her it wasn't real, that it was all in her imagination. Rebecca wasn't a dumb kid. Unicorns and fairy tales were fantasy. Just because what she saw wasn't happening right in front of her face didn't mean it wasn't happening somewhere else.

Then the monsters came for a visit. She not only saw them, but she could smell the foul stench of them. One even breathed on her. Her parents couldn't deny the truth of her visions any longer. Her father even died protecting his little girl from the very things he had been set on not believing.

Rebecca raised her head. Her eyes were huge as if she sensed something. "We need to run!" she shouted.

The mother swooped up her daughter and ran. She looked up at the night sky and whispered a prayer for God to save Rebecca. Not for herself, she was unimportant.

"We need to go faster!" Rebecca demanded. She clung to the woman in fright.

Out of the shadows, leapt a dark form. He came into view. Glowing golden eyes lit up from his grotesque face. He snarled at them.

The woman put Rebecca down, moving in front of her. She was ready to protect the girl until death if need be. The woman reached into her pocket and drew out a cross. She held it toward the vampire. He laughed, and kicked it out of her hand.

A panicked expression whitewashed the woman's face. Seeing her weakness, he grabbed her shoulders. She struggled in his clutch, but he was far stronger. He jerked her roughly and leaned down. His fangs sunk deep into her throat, sucking the red liquid that ran through her veins. The coppery blood slid into his mouth, and he drank it up hungrily.

Rebecca let out a piercing scream. The demon was draining her mother and there was nothing she could do.

Spike walked down the deserted street, lost in his thoughts. He was trying to decide where to go now that he decided to skip town. He figured he should go as far away from his slayer as possible. There was no temptation to come back that way. He'd be out of her life for good. The best thing for the both of them. All they did was muck of each other's existence.

Maybe he'd try Australia. In all his years he'd never set foot on the continent. He could imagine himself wrestling a giant crocodile. He licked his lower lip in excitement while he pantomimed what he'd do to a beasty like that.

He was jarred out of his reverie when a scream pierced his ears. On automatic, he ran toward the sound. He ended up in a dark alley. His night vision took in a vampire draining a woman.

"I don't think so, mate," he called out.

Spike pried the vampire off the woman. She fell to the ground in a heap. The vampire looked up at him and growled from having his meal interrupted. He sent a punch Spike's way.

To the vampire's amazement, the hero's features shifted. Spike's face became that of his own kind.

"You're William the Bloody!" the vampire accused.

Spike grinned. "Yeah, heard of me I take it."

"You fight your own kind, you're disgusting!" the vamp spat.

"Didn't know my fandom had hit this coast. Too bad you won't be around long enough for an autograph."

Spike took hold of the vampire's neck. In one clean movement he twisted it off. There was a snap of bone, then a burst of ashes.

He was about ready to leave, he had done his job. But then he heard the sobs, and he made the mistake of glancing back. The little girl hugged her still mother. She raised her head. Wetness gleamed on her cheeks. "She's dead," she stated.

Spike was frozen. He should leave, not his problem. Except, something nagged at him, preventing him to. Damnit, that sodding soul was quite the bother sometimes.

Spike gave in, stepping over to the little girl. "You got anyone to go home to, bit?" he questioned. He lowered to one knee.

She shook her head. "No, they got daddy before."

God, why did his chest swell? He was William the Bloody, slaughterer of hundreds, executioner of two slayers; and here he was, feeling for a child. Oh, who was he kidding? He had always had a soft-shot for the young ones. Even when he was a 'human' blood-sucker, he never hunted them. Dru wanted to, but he steered her away from the idea. Told her the bigger, the more feed.

The child pointed to the sky. "It will be light soon."

That was when Spike realized his game-face still showed. He put his human mask back on.

He studied the girl with curiosity. "Why you not scared of me? I'm the same as that pile of dust over there?" he said. He pointed to the remains of the vampire he'd slain.

Rebecca stood up from her crouch. "No, you aren't, you're different. I saw you in my dreams."

Sorrowfully, Spike replied," You're wrong. I'm a demon just like him. I've done terrible things. Far worse than he ever did."

"You aren't. I saw you protect me," she stated.

"Bloody hell!" Spike exclaimed.


	3. Chapter 3

Domestic Shadows

By SinisterChic & MsQuey

A/N: This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

Disclaimer: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

Chapter 3

Dawn woke up _late_ that morning, but then again, that really wasn't unusual for her. "At least this morning I have an excuse," she mumbled groggily, as she pushed the covers down and tossed her legs over the edge of the bed. She'd spent hours sitting with Buffy last night as she waited for Spike to come home. It wasn't until the first rays of sun started showing over the frosty horizon that Dawn could finally convince her to go to bed. But even then she wasn't altogether sure that Buffy had actually slept.

"Wait, what the hell _was _it that woke me up?" And as if in answer, Dawn heard a crash followed closely by a peal of laughter. "Ugh, _please_. Not another demon," she threw her head back, whining to whoever was listening. "Its too early . . . and we're RETIRED NOW!"

Still in her pajamas, Dawn flatfooted down the hall, making sure her presence was known to whoever or _whatever_ was invading their home. On her way, she pounded on Buffy's door. "Rise and shine, Buffy! We've got visitors . . . Grab your axe." She heard a muffled noise that sounded something like a half-awake protest. "Just get up!" she cried impatiently. Again Dawn received a subhuman response from Buffy. "Fine," she sighed, "I'll kill it myself."

Thank the PTB that the Summers women still had a weapons chest (which had a very nice duel functionality as a coffee table) in the living room. Dawn heard more movement and giggles coming from the kitchen and she grabbed a crossbow from the arsenal as she inched toward the sound. But just before she reached the threshold she paused. Did she smell bacon? And as she listened she heard the crackling noise that indeed could only come from the cooking of pork flesh.

"That you, nibblet?"

Dawn breathed a heavy sigh of relief and went into the kitchen. Spike was standing at the stove poking at a couple strips of bacon. "I thought I said I'd stake you the next time you—" She was stopped in the middle of her threat by what was sitting on top of the kitchen table. Or rather who. "Uh, Spike? Where'd she come from?"

"I'm Rebecca," said the little girl as she swung her legs back and forth. "You're pretty."

Dawn made an involuntary, "Awww," but then snapped out of it. "Where _did _she come from, Spike?"

"Trust me, wasn't my choice to bring her here," he said heavily. "I found her last night just after a vamp killed her mum." He turned off the stove and placed the cooked bacon onto an already waiting plate. "The bastard had already killed her dad, apparently. I couldn't just leave her in the alley."

"It wasn't a bastard, Mr. Spike. It was a vampire."

"Great, Spike." Dawn scolded, with her hands on her hips, foot tapping. One might wonder who the teenager was and who the century old demon was. "Way to go with the language."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Just get her some orange juice, would yah," he said as he went over to table with the little girl's bacon.

"She can't stay here, you know." Spike gave her a look and motioned for her to step out into the hall. Dawn complied reluctantly.

"What was I supposed to do with her? Take her to the police station and say, 'Hey, found this bit in an alley just after a _vampire_ sucked all the blood from her mum's neck. Oh, could you s'cuse me? I hav'ta get outta the sunlight before I go _poof!_'"

Dawn was about to come back with what she was sure would be a stinging remark but the sound of her sister coming down the hall stole it from her lips instantly. Spike visibly tensed. "Don't hear any screaming," Buffy called lazily from around the corner. "So I guess that means you killed it." She emerged, still in her pajamas and slippers, flipping through a copy of _Vogue _and not watching where she was going. "I hope there isn't too much mess to clean up, because I _so _do not relish cleaning duty this morn—" She bumped right into Spike, who instinctively put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from tripping. Buffy looked up, stunned and then backed away from his touch. "You're back. I didn't think you were coming back," she stammered, unable to stop staring, perhaps fearful that he might disappear again if she looked away. Spike, on the other hand, averted his gaze to the floor.

Dawn felt like she was intruding on a private moment but there was still an orphaned little girl eating bacon in their breakfast nook. "Uh, Buffy," Dawn spoke quietly and tentatively. "We've got a little bit of a problem."

_This is just too much_, Buffy thought as she looked from the little girl, now giggling at a cartoon, to Spike who leaned against the wall looking uncomfortable.

"Does this mean you're staying?" she asked flatly.

"For now," he said. "At least until I figure out what to do with the bit."

"What _are_ we going to do with her?"

"_You're_ not doing anything," he corrected. "I'm the one who found 'er. I'll figure it out. Never you mind about that."

"You don't know how to take care of child, Spike."

He snorted, indignantly. "What? And you do?"

"I know a _helluva_ lot more than a vampire does!" she retorted but then she felt a tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked down and saw the little girl standing at her side. "I'm sorry, Rebecca," Buffy said, kneeling down in front of her. "We didn't mean to argue in front of you."

"I think I saw you in my dreams too," she said. "'Cept you didn't look mad in the dream. You were happy." She leaned in and whispered into Buffy's ear. "_You were kissing Mr. Spike._" Buffy blushed violently, which made Rebecca start with the giggling again.

"Oy, what'd she say then?" he asked, raising a scarred eyebrow.

Rebecca covered her mouth, trying not to laugh while Buffy stood again and tried to pass off her embarrassment with a cough. "Nothing . . . Rebecca, why don't you go into the kitchen and see what Dawn is doing. Maybe she needs some help drying the dishes." Rebecca nodded with an impish smile and left the room.

"She said that something was after her," Spike said when he thought the child was out of earshot. "I don't think that kid's normal."

"Apparently not," she stated as she turned the television off, glad for the excuse not to have to look at him. No, it wasn't normal that this child had had a dream where she was kissing Spike. It was like lemon juice on a paper cut; it stung like hell.

"Do you think she's a witch, like Red?" he asked.

"Maybe. But, clairvoyant or psychic would be more my guess." To that Spike raised an eyebrow again but he didn't have the chance to comment. "Are we going to talk about last night, or what?" she barreled on.

"Last night," he responded flatly.

"Yes," she said, looking him in the eye. "Before you went off to play hero."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and blew unneeded air out of his nostrils in frustration. "Damn, woman! Why do yeh have to go and cut me like that?"

"Me? I cut _you_? Where the hell do you get off? I'm not the one who did the kissing and then . . . and then the _leaving_!" She glared at him, waiting for him to come back at her, but he didn't. He just stood there and took it. It just pissed her off even more. "Say something!"

Finally, Spike pushed away from the wall and began walking toward her. There was a resolve face there that would have made Willow proud. "No. I'm not gonna say a thing about it." He stopped a foot away from her. "We're not doing this. Not right now." He pointed toward the kitchen. "We've got bigger problems."


	4. Chapter 4

_Domestic Shadows_

By SinisterChic & MsQuey

**A/N**: This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

**Disclaimer**: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

* * *

**  
Chapter 4**

A dark figure leaned against the stone wall of a cave. He watched fondly as a woman hovered nearby over a wooden bowl of water. She chanted and waved her hands over the scrying tool. There was a sickening, cloying smell that was so strong that a normal person may have passed out, but these were hardly normal people.

The man reached inside his cloak and pulled out a flask. "Do you see anything, darling," he asked taking a drink.

"Not yet, Dante," she whispered.

He frowned, wiping a stray drop of blood from his lips. She had said 'yet', as if she were searching for something threatening. "Clor, why don't you come to bed? You've been scouting around for almost an hour."

"Just another sweep," she said.

"There's nothing after us," he assured her. "No one could possibly know we are here. Not even those of our own kind."

She squirmed out of his clutch and He reluctantly let her go. He knew that there was no getting through to her when she was in this kind of mood.

Suddenly Clorinda raised her head in a quick thrust. Her long dark hair flung back from the motion. Her wide violet eyes found his, and her blood-red lips parted. In the blink of an eye he was by her side, gripping her slender shoulders tightly.

"What is it, my love? What did you see?" he gently questioned.

Her fragile body (fragile, that is, compared to Dante) violently trembled with emotion. "A-A girl."

Dante ran a hand through her hair and whispered into her ear. "Shhh, now, what harm can a girl do?"

"She's not a normal girl. I see power."

He began to sway with her cupped in his arms as if comforting a child rather than a lover."We'll move again if you wish, darling. We'll go far away, to another continent even."

She shook her head. "She'll find us. Wherever we go, she'll find us."

Dante scooped Clorinda up and carried her to bed. He felt like the Phantom of the Opera at the moment, carrying his love off through his secret cavern. He lay down next to her, gathering her into his arms. She breathed harshly, a sound he wasn't accustomed to. Whatever she had seen, this small girl she spoke of, had really unsettled her. Fright accumulated in his chest. Not of the threat, because he knew there was none. But that Clorinda believed that there was, and he didn't know if he could convince her otherwise this time.

"Okay, Rebecca, I think it's time you got ready for bed," Buffy said. Nine o'clock seemed like a reasonable bedtime for a five year-old. At least, Buffy guessed that was how old Rebecca was. She hadn't actually been around enough children in her lifetime to know.

Rebecca got up from her cross-legged seat on the floor. She had been watching the Care Bear movie on Cartoon Network. It was over now, and the credits had started to roll. As Rebecca stood to face her, Buffy realized just how cute the little girl was. She hadn't taken the time to really look at her until then. Rebecca wore an adorable outfit of pink overalls over a white shirt, with lacy socks. Her brown hair had been done-up in two pigtails by Dawn, who over the day had apparently grown fond of their guest. Her soft brown eyes looked at Buffy, waiting for further instructions. Buffy was surprised at how obedient the girl was. She thought all kids fought tooth and nail in order to stay up to all hours of the night.

"All right, how about we brush your teeth and wash your face?" Buffy suggested. That's what she did before sleep. Little kid agendas couldn't be that much different.

Rebecca put her tiny hand in Buffy's. For a second Buffy didn't know how to react to the little girl's trusting gesture, but then she gently squeezed and led her upstairs.

"Where will I sleep, Ms. Buffy?" Rebecca questioned.

Ms. Buffy? Her mother had given her manners. Buffy remembered one time Dawn called a stranger 'poopy head'. Joyce had been appalled at her daughter's behavior. Or course, that didn't really happen. . . But it was real enough to Buffy and Dawn.

Buffy thought for a moment. "You can take my bed for tonight," Buffy said, finally. "You'll like it. It's really comfy."

It was a good thing they always kept a spare toothbrush. Buffy felt sorry it was adult sized, and that they didn't have fruity toothpaste. Buffy watched as Rebecca ran the brush in a circular motion in her mouth. She was amazed at how thorough she cleaned, even the molars.

After washing Rebecca's face, Buffy took her into her bedroom. She folded down the covers.

Rebecca looked around in simple delight. "Pretty room," she complimented.

"Thank you," Buffy said.

Rebecca climbed into the large bed and Buffy tucked the blankets around her small form. Buffy felt her heart squeeze, remembering how it had been when her mother had put her to bed. It seemed so long ago, and she could hardly recall what it felt like to be taken care of.

"My mommy would read me a story," Rebecca whispered, a little sadness creeping into her tiny voice.

Buffy bit her lip. A story? They hardly had any books in the house, and definitely none with pictures. She and Dawn were strictlymagazine people.

"Once upon a time . . ."

The slayer spun around to see Spike enter. It figured that he would swoop in and save the day, er night. That was what he did now: be the hero. When exactly had they switched roles? He used to be the heart-sick puppy and now she was. And he had taken on the patrolling and saving innocent lives while she stayed at home and watched Survivor and The Bachelorette.

Buffy heard Rebecca laugh at something Spike said. She realized that she hadn't been listening to a bit of the story so far. She tuned herself into the adventurous tale.

"So, the knight thrust on the necklace, prepared to sacrifice himself to kill the dragon. Magic shot out of it and killed the beast. But it kept coming, and the knight knew that his body couldn't handle it. He was going to burn up."

Rebecca gasped.

Spike glanced at Buffy. "But the princess wasn't about to let her true love go. So she ran in and snatched the necklace off. The two fled the scene and lived happily ever after."

Rebecca looked up at Spike with adoring eyes. "Was that a true story?" she asked.

Spike opened his mouth to speak. Buffy answered instead. "No, Becca, that was made-up."

Spike glared at her. Buffy ignored him. She hadn't lied. The story wasn't true because the ending was completely wrong. They hadn't lived happily ever after. The princess had to face the knight every day but could never tell him how she felt because the knight wouldn't believe her . . . And then the knight decided to pack his bags and ride off into the sunset (or after the sun had set) without her.

Rebecca looked ready to cry. "My mommy used to call me Becca."

"I'm sorry," Buffy told her. She sat down beside Rebecca. "I lost my mother too."

She looked up as she felt Spike rise from the bed. He crept out quietly. Buffy guessed he sensed the personal matter of their conversation and wanted to give them privacy.

"Really?" Rebecca sniffed, holding back the tears.

Buffy nodded. "It's hard without your mother. But you'll see her again."

"Cuz she's up in heaven, right Ms. Buffy?"

Buffy forced a smile. "Right."

Buffy leaned down and hugged Rebecca.

"Do you think our mommies are friends?"

Buffy's smile wobbled. "Definitely."

Rebecca smiled back, hers true. She shut her eyes.

Spike waited for Buffy out in the hall.

"You're good with her. You'd make a good mum."

Please don't say that, Buffy silently pleaded. That kind of thing makes it harder.

"I don't see that happening. I can't raise a kid on my own and my track record is faulty with men. Angel left me. Parker, well let's not go into that. Riley left me. And you . . ."

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, peering at her with his sharp blue eyes. "What about me?" he challenged.

You're going to leave me too! She had the urge to punch him, to hit him until he believed what she said down in the Hellmouth. But she didn't. She wasn't like that anymore, she'd never hurt him that way again. If she were true to herself, she'd admit that it had been her violent nature that led to him to disbelieve her in the first place.

She hated it when he looked at her this way. He looked as if he could see deep into the core of her soul. He was waiting for a response, yet she could almost believe he had dug the information out of her already.

Buffy hated that even given the chance to abandon her slayer role she still couldn't show her weakness. She wished she could cry and confess everything in her heart. It'd be one of those sappy scenes you saw on TV, where the girl spilled it all and the guy revealed that he felt the same way.

"Buffy, luv?"

"What are we going to do about Rebecca?" That's right, Buffy, change the subject. If you can't run away physically . . .

He knew what she was doing. The probing perception never let him down. But he had said earlier that they had more important things to deal with than the 'us' that was nonexistent.

"If she becomes a problem I'll take her away. She can stay with me," Spike said.

"Off in some dusty crypt? I don't think so. She's a little girl, Spike. You can't raise kids with dead bodies around."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oi, is that right? And what about you sending Dawn down with a mug of blood?"

"That's different! Dawn is way older, and she was raised around weird stuff. And besides, you aren't dead-dead," she countered. Sometimes I forget you are dead at all, she thought to herself.

"I know. And I wouldn't shove her in some dank hole in the ground. I'd find a posh apartment somewhere."

"With what? Your poker winnings? You can't pay the rent with kittens." She got him there.

There was a span of silence. Spike clenched his jaw in frustration.

Buffy sighed. "Maybe I should contact social services. They aren't all like nasty Mrs. Kroger."

"No!" The forcefulness of the word made Buffy jump. "What would we tell them? 'This is Rebecca. Her mum was offed by a vampire. To top it off, she might be psychic'. They'll ask a million questions we can't answer. Besides, I'm not throwing her out to who knows who. I'm responsible for her. I'll take care of it."

She was tempted to take the negligent route and let him handle it. He had looked after Drusilla for what, a hundred years? And while she had been gone he had kept his promise and protected Dawn. When Spike set his mind to something he followed through no matter what.

The distressing scream caught them off guard. They took a split-second to glance at each other in puzzlement and then rushed into the bedroom. Rebecca thrashed around, tangling the blankets with her legs. Buffy realized that the girl wasn't even awake yet. She didn't know what to do. Wasn't it a bad idea to awaken someone having a nightmare suddenly because of the danger of shock? She thought she heard that somewhere. Psychology class?

Spike neared the flaying child slowly. He took hold of her with care and gingerly coaxed her awake. Buffy watched with amazement. She got the feeling he had dealt with this sort of thing before. With Drusilla probably.

"Come on, nibblity bit, it's all right. I've got ya," Spike murmured.

"There were monsters, Mr. Spike. They were going to get me. They know where I am," Rebecca said through sobs.

Spike held her, running a hand in circles over her back. "I won't let anything get you," he promised.

It was wrong, Buffy knew this, but she instantly felt jealous. She wanted it to be herself in Spike's arms, his sultry voice speaking soothingly to her.

"Stay with me, Mr. Spike," Rebecca begged.

"Course." Spike climbed onto the mattress. Rebecca rested comfortably in the crook of his arm.

"Ms. Buffy?"

Oh. Buffy focused. "Huh?"

"Would you stay too?"

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh, uh, I don't . . ."

"Come on, Buffy," Spike urged. He patted the mattress. "I don't bite anymore, remember."

"I-I guess." The thought of sleeping next to Spike again made her feel shy. She hugged her arms. "Double the evil protection," Buffy said.

So they all ended up in Buffy's queen-sized bed. Rebecca lay between the two blondes, pacified by their presence. Spike and Buffy shared a look that meant they had to look into Rebecca's dreams later. And then Spike fell into slumber right after Rebecca. Buffy kept vigil for a long while with an aching chest. It wasn't until she reached out past Rebecca to Spike, holding them both, that she was able to follow them into blissful oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Domestic Shadows**_

_By SinisterChic & MsQuey_

A/N: This story follows cannon up until our Heros' final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)

Disclaimer: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.

Chapter 5

Buffy opened her eyes the next morning when Rebecca squirmed beside her. The coverlet had slipped off the little girl's shoulder and so Buffy gently pulled it back up. It was then that she realized that Spike's side of the bed was empty. Panic caught in her throat, and she thought, _maybe he's decided to leave after all._

And then she heard a gentle cough. Looking up, she saw that it had come from him. He was sitting in a shadowy corner with his knees drawn to his chest. "Spike?" she began, but he stopped her with a finger to his lips, then a glance at the sleeping child who lay in a bunch next to her. She grimaced at her thoughtlessness and lowered her voice as she got up slowly from the bed. "Why are you over there," she asked, crossing to him.

He pointed to her window. The shades were up, letting the morning sun shine in unhindered. "It was getting a little hot," he said with slight smirk. "I would have gone down to the basement but I didn't want you to think," he said, looking down at his hands, "or the girl, that I'd split."

Buffy frowned. _He chooses _now_ to start reading my mind?_

"I think we would have figured it out," she said, sounding a little more defensive than she had meant to. She sighed. "C'mon. Let's go into the living room so that we don't wake her up."

"Right."

* * *

Dawn was already up and eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV. When she saw her sister and Spike coming from Buffy's—room both looking rumpled, she arched her brow.

"Good morning, Dawn," Buffy greeted after a very big yawn.

Dawn didn't say anything, but looked suspiciously from one to the other.

"What's on the tele at this time of the morning?" Spike picked up the remote from the coffee table/weapon's chest and began flipping through channels. Dawn didn't move a muscle but continue with the mildly accusatory look she was giving them.

"Dawn, what's with the gawking," Buffy asked, finally giving in.

"You're sleeping together again, aren't you?"

Both of their jaws dropped. "No!" Spike exclaimed immediately.

"Of course we're not!" Buffy chimed in.

"Yeah, right," she said as she got up with her empty cereal bowl and headed toward the kitchen. "Sure. I believe that. Just like I believe there's no such thing as the Boogey Man."

Buffy glanced at Spike, deciding that the truth was the best route to take in this particular situation. "Okay, yes. Technically we _were _sleeping together, but it was just that—sleeping."

"Yeah, the little girl had a nasty dream," Spike defended. "She didn't want us to leave."

Dawn didn't look convinced, but shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen. "Whatever. It's not like it's my business anyway."

"That's right—," he called after her. "You're bloody right it's not your—" Buffy cut him a look as if to say, _You're not helping!_

"Well we can't let Dawn think we're doing somethin' we're not."

"Ever heard the term, 'Me thinketh thou protesteth too mucheth'?" She asked sitting down on the couch next to him.

Spike looked at her incredulously. "Oh you completely butchered that. Were you that busy in high school that you couldn't learn your Shakespeare properly?"

"So _not_ the point, Spike," she retorted, rolling her eyes with a sigh. "Never mind." Spike shrugged and returned to flipping through stations. "But just for your information," Buffy said, unable to resist the temptation, "I seem to recall that _you_ were one of the biggest pains in my ass keeping me from my school work."

Spike cut her a look, "Oh please! I bet it was your Broody Pants that did most of the distracting." Spike made his eyes glaze over and in a high pitched voice said, "Oh, Angel! I really need to go. I have a test in history tomorrow." Then he changed his expression by furrowing his brow and spiking up some of his hair. "No, you must stay with me Buffy. My soul, it's tortured. Only you can—"

"Bite me, Spike." Buffy huffed, playfully elbowing him in the ribs.

"Don't think that's what he said, pet. Although," and this time he braced himself for the jab, "I always _did _wondered about him," which inevitably followed.

"Damn, woman. That hurt," he said a little more forcefully than he'd intended.

"Oh, it's not like you didn't deserve it," she snapped back. "You're lucky I didn't use any serious force."

"Like your super-nagging ability?" Spike leaned forward, angry, getting in her face. "Or your ability to bring every man to his breaking point?"

Pain and offense burned in Buffy's eyes. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

Spike snarled in frustration and was about to –

"I'm sorry!" A surprised Buffy and Spike turned and saw Rebecca, standing at the corner, a very scared and sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Mr Spike, Ms Buffy!"

It took a second for Buffy to figure out what she was talking about but then she went to the child and knelt down in front of her. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

The little girl shifted from one socked foot to the other, but wouldn't look at Buffy. "You were fighting about me, weren't you?"

"Of course we weren't, Rebecca," Buffy said, reassuringly placing a hand on her little shoulder.

"Now what put an idea like that in your wee little head?" Spike piped up from behind them.

"Because that's what my mommy and daddy used to do... every time I saw stuff."

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks of understanding. Her parents must have fought over what her visions had meant about their daughter. Buffy especially knew what that felt like. She remembered her own parents fighting about her dreams of past slayers before she'd been chosen to be the next of them.

"Oh." She said, suddenly feeling very guilty about fighting with Spike when there was an impressionable child in the house. A child they were supposed to protect. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. We weren't fighting about you at all. We were—," she turned and gave Spike a pleading look.

"We were just fighting, pet." He said, approaching them and getting down on one knee beside Buffy. "Sometimes adults fight. About stupid things. We say things we don't mean," He glanced at Buffy, "and then we're sorry for them later."

It was an apology, and it surprised Buffy so much that her voice faltered when she said, "That's right."

Rebecca looked tentatively from one adult to the other. "So you weren't fighting about me?"

"Nope," Buffy said, smiling reassuringly at her.

"Not a bit," said Spike.

Then the child broke out into a toothy grin and clapped her small hands together. "What's for breakfast?"

* * *

There were happy, if not chaotic noises coming from the kitchen as Dawn and Rebecca whipped up a batch of chocolate chip pancakes a few minutes later.

"I'm gonna go have a smoke in the basement," Spike said pulling his lighter and cigarettes from the pocket of his leather duster that hung on the coat wrack by the front door.

"And I am so in need of a shower," she said in turn, getting up from the couch. Spike had almost reached the basement door when Buffy added. "But when I'm done, we really need to talk about making some decisions."

He partially turned toward her. "I suppose we do."

"Careful. Don't burn your arm on the pan." Dawn said, enjoying not being the one talked down to for the first time in her life.

Rebecca stood on a chair and licked her lips as she carefully let the batter drizzle from a measuring pitcher onto the crackling frying pan. "This is going to be yummy!" she exclaimed happily.

Dawn laughed. "I know I'm looking forward to it." She leaned down and whispered, "Buffy never cooks, so unless I do it, we never get pancakes."

Rebecca giggled at the secret. "Chocolate chip pancakes are my favorite. My mommy used to make them for me every Sunday, but she never let me help."

Dawned frowned but the little girl didn't seem to notice. It made her wonder if Rebecca was old enough to really understand that her parents were gone. Forever. Dawn knew what it meant, having lost her mother some years earlier. She didn't envy the child the day that she would finally realize that her parents weren't coming back.

"Dawn?"

She snapped out of her reverie to see Rebecca looking up at her curiously.

"Will you send me something pretty from England?"

Dawned stared at her, completely puzzled. Suddenly it seemed to become apparent to the little girl that she had said something that she shouldn't have and she looked away quickly. "Why do you think that I'm going to England?"

"I, I don't know," she said, seeming very interested in the bubbles that were forming on the tops of the partially cooked pancakes. "Aren't you?"

The odd thing was that Dawn _had been _thinking about going to England. After she graduated she wanted to go help Giles and the others with the new Slayer Academy. She knew that she could be useful there, but at the same time knew that Buffy wouldn't be willing to go with her. She desperately wanted to go, but Buffy needed her more than she would ever let on. How could she leave her? And here Rebecca not only knew about it, but was talking as if it were a done deal.

"I haven't decided yet, Rebecca," she finally answered as she flipped the pancakes over.

"Oh."

"Do me a favor and keep this a secret between you and me. Okay?" Dawn smiled widely, trying to cover up her uneasiness. Rebecca seemed to buy it and smiled back.

"I won't tell."

_Said the psychic kid_, Dawn thought as she scooped the finished pancakes off the pan and onto a plate.


End file.
